


Stripping Away the Layers

by Arrestzelle



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Ass to Mouth, Creampie, Dom/sub, M/M, Punishment, Rimming, Sehnsucht Era, Sloppy Seconds, Spanking, Switching, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 06:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18219356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle
Summary: It's been a while since their last "session". It seems Schneider has to reteach Paul how toobey. Unlike Till, who has always striven to please him, Paul clings to his pride. Schneider manages to rip it from him. He always does.





	Stripping Away the Layers

**Author's Note:**

> This is very indulgent, whoops.
> 
> Their appearances/outfits are based on [this pic](https://66.media.tumblr.com/2cf487014eebae1ccb798ac2ceb0ed5f/tumblr_pouxwyDp8f1wffjmmo1_1280.jpg). Sorry Ollie, you're not in this one.
> 
> Warning for spanking with a belt, use of the word 'whore'... And that's about it. Check the tags for your other warnings. Those two didn't have tags.

Silence sits upon them, swallowing them and the atmosphere whole. Choking them. There is no traffic, no music, no conversation. In the confines of Till’s bedroom, they hear only their thoughts and their breathing. Schneider sits like a king upon his throne. Positioned on the foot of the bed, feet placed upon the carpet, he leans forward with his elbows against his knees, hands linked together. His piercing blue eyes are trained on his “servants”.

Paul and Till kneel at his feet, resting back on their calves, hands upon their thighs, their respective gazes kept locked on him. Paul’s bleached hair is slightly unkempt, falling across his forehead rather than swept to the side, his face flushed, breathing somewhat hard—Schneider had to drag him into the bedroom, thus he is not quite as put-together. He’s wearing black pants with a belt and a long-sleeved top, colored a rich olive and slightly askew on his torso from the roughhousing. He previously removed his rings and watch. Beside him, Till’s lengthy hair falls against his brow. He dons a black button-up, fixed up to his throat, with matching black pants. They’re both lacking their shoes.

As for Schneider: a dark top, joined by deep gray jacket and sand colored, slim-fitting pants. His curls frame his forehead, slightly unraveled from the effort it took to drag a struggling Paul into the bedroom. Sweat gleams on his brow.

“I shouldn’t have to repeat myself again,” he murmurs, his smooth voice a commanding gospel in the overwhelming silence of the room. They both watch him loyally. Paul’s lips tighten, his jaw clenching. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Schneider. He levels the both of them with a brutal stare, his brow furrowed and thin lips in a line.

“I expect an apology from you, Paul,” he murmurs, and then lifts a hand to point a finger at him, snarling with a curl of his lip, “And get that look off your face. Stubbornness is the last damn thing I want to see. Got it?”

Paul licks his lips, ducking his head, and nods. He erases the tension from his features and looks up at Schneider with apologetic eyes. Schneider arches a brow at him, expectant. Paul is silent, his tongue held by the pride he has yet to release. He swallows hard, hands curling into fists atop his thighs. His heart begins to hammer. He knows he’s fucking up right now, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Schneider knows this and responds by leaning forward, extending a hand to slap him across the face with a resounding, sharp smack filling the room. Paul grunts, his blonde locks flying from the force of it. He looks up at Schneider with fiery eyes, though he immediately blinks it away and forces himself to regain control. He puts on a mask of rue.

“I-I’m sorry, sir. I’ll obey next time,” he whispers, jaw clenched, cheek throbbing. Schneider continues to lean forward, watching him closely. Paul feels like he’s being completely, devastatingly dissected by those blue eyes. Schneider waits a moment longer, and then scoffs with a sardonic grin growing on his face, disbelief in his eyes.

“That’s it? My God. We have a lot to work on with you.”

Dread floods Paul, his face draining. He swallows hard, heart pounding. He nods a little and ducks his head. He knows he still retains the ingrained pride he latches onto. It’s hard to shake it off so easily, and he knows Schneider is attempting to teach him to. Schneider turns to Till, who has been kneeling there quietly, witnessing their exchange and Paul’s pitiful attempt to please him. His cool green eyes meet Schneider’s. Schneider’s sneer softens to a slight smile, looking at the older man.

“Till. Would you guide Paul and show him how it should be done?”

Till nods. He moves towards Schneider, but then Schneider clicks his tongue, holding up a finger. Till freezes, looks up at him with a furrowed brow, confused. Schneider directs that finger towards Paul.

“I said guide him. Don’t be an example. Paul doesn’t deserve an example.”

Panning his eyes over to Paul, Till meets his uncertain gray eyes. They sit in silence for a second, unsure. Schneider sighs.

“Grab him. Come on, now.”

Till realizes what he wants. He nods and shifts over towards Paul to grab him by the bicep. Heat rushes into Paul’s face. He looks at Till with wide eyes. Till doesn’t wait for him. He yanks him over to Schneider—Paul stumbles, unable to unravel his legs in time. His hand flies out to plant against the floor. Till heaves him across the floor, with Paul sloppily regaining his balance on his knees. He crawls over to Schneider, Till leading him. They kneel directly in front of him now. Paul looks up at him from between his spread knees, his gray eyes wide and cheeks stained a striking red. Schneider looks amused. He reaches out to drift the back of his knuckles against his cheek, feeling the coarse hairs of his stubble. Paul swallows hard.

With the hold on Paul’s bicep, Till readjusts his position. He pulls him back, Paul shuffling backwards on his knees, until there is sufficient room for Till to release his bicep, place his large hand over the back of his head atop his blonde locks, and push him down. Paul grunts, planting his hands on the floor for stability as he lets Till lower his face to the floor. Schneider is silent, still. Till grabs a fistful of Paul’s locks and murmurs, “Apologize.”

Paul knows what he has to do. He presses his forehead to the carpet and shakily says, “I-I… I’m sorry for disobeying. Please accept my sincerest apology, sir. I should’ve known better.”

It comes out harder than he meant to. Akin to a growl. Cold sweat is on his back and forehead. He knows he screwed up. He tries to make up for it but lifting his head to begin kissing over Schneider’s shoe. He cups his hands around his calf through his beige pants and rests his forehead against his shin, his back curled and body made small.

A moment of silence passes. Schneider hums, low and long. He speaks lowly.

“That was… An effort. I suppose. But I must ask: was that an edge in your tone, or was I simply hearing things? You’re not liking this, are you, Paul? Being put in your place was something you never enjoyed. But I think you’ll learn to respect me. After all, it has been a while since we last established where we stand. Or rather… Where I _stand,_ and where you two _kneel.”_

Paul squeezes his eyes shut. He’s actually… Kind of frightened. He has faced his wrath before. He knows how vicious Schneider can be. But alongside that fear is the sparking of anticipation. The brewing heat of arousal, rising from the depths of him.

Till’s hand is on Paul’s back, between his shoulder blades. It acts as a minuscule comfort. Paul continues clutching at Schneider’s calf, face hidden in his pants, until Schneider lets out a thoughtful exhale and speaks again.

“Till. Bring Paul up onto the bed and undress each other. And yes, I would like it to be interesting. Make it interesting to me. Use your tongue on anything above the waist.”

Bringing his hand down from Paul’s back, Till gently grabs his bicep and pulls him up. Paul rises and they both crawl onto the bed. Schneider stands, stepping from the bed to watch them. He removes his jacket, revealing his long-sleeved shirt underneath, and drapes it over Till’s desk chair before facing them again. Crossing his arms, he settles his gaze on the other two.

Raised up on his knees with him, Paul looks at Till, cheeks warm and eyes guarded. Till’s handsome face is schooled, his brow slightly furrowed. His spider-like hair is resting haphazardly across his forehead. Paul thinks he is quite beautiful. Till reaches up to rest his hand over Paul’s stubbled cheek. His gentle green eyes search his face. He leans in to gingerly kiss him. Paul closes his eyes, his slender hand raising to rest on Till’s chest. Their lips purse together, a slow, intimate overlapping that fills the room with the sound of their kiss. Till’s lips are full, and soft. Paul likes kissing him. He hums into it, his slim fingers venturing up to stroke at Till’s jawline.

The touch to his cheek is gone, but is soon replaced by warm fingers stroking up along his sides, drawing up his shirt. Paul presses a hard, departing kiss to Till’s lips and then rests back on his calves. Till eases his olive shirt up his torso, exposing freckled skin and soft muscle. Paul raises his arms to let Till slip it off entirely, leaving him in only his black pants with his silver necklace settling into the crevice of his collarbone.

Paul forgets about Schneider’s displeasure. He forgets about his fear. The threat of punishment is far from his mind as Till leans in to begin kissing over his neck and shoulder with those perfect full lips. Slow and gentle, Till mouths his way down from his shoulder, to his chest. His big hands are cupped around Paul’s sides, affectionately. Paul watches with lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, his hands resting on Till’s forearms. Then Till reaches down to begin slowly working on the buckle to his belt. He unlatches it, slips the leather out from its place, and then tugs it open. He languidly undoes the button and zipper to his black pants while his mouth works over Paul’s muscular chest, to settle over a perky nipple. He bites at it gently, licking and evoking a shaky exhale from the other man.

Watching them, Schneider can’t help but picture them as lovers. Till seems to know Paul’s body so well, knows how to handle him. He nips across his skin, back up to his jaw, nuzzles into the side of his face, nosing at his ear and the accompanying silver gauge. Meanwhile, he pulls down his pants and his boxers. Schneider stares, seeing Paul’s erect dick spring up. The bush of hair surrounding his cock is trimmed, narrowing up into a happy trail which reaches his belly button. Paul usually shaves it. Schneider smiles to himself. He likes it when he doesn’t.

“Don’t touch his dick,” Schneider commands, quietly. Till grunts an affirmative. Paul peeks over at Schneider, almost meekly, while Till kisses along his jaw, to nip at his earlobe. Meanwhile his hands roam up over Paul’s tummy, fingers stroking across his belly hair. Schneider meets Paul’s gaze and holds it. Paul licks his lips and glances down to Schneider’s groin. He is incredibly erect, and Schneider is sure Paul can tell.

Till bites Paul’s earlobe between his teeth, hard enough it has Paul’s eyes flinching shut, a slight grimace twisting his lips. And then Till draws back, looking at the other man with a collected expression. Paul is flushed, his chest marked in some places with hickeys. He’s breathing a little hard. Schneider is pleased with Till’s work.

“You did well, Till,” he praises with a slight grin, earning a flick of green eyes and the faintest hint of a smile. Then Schneider’s grin fades, redirecting his attention to the younger, “Paul. Take off your pants and then undress him.”

Paul doesn’t hesitate. Raising from the bed, he quickly sheds his pants, his underwear, and his socks before climbing back on, now completely nude. He reaches out to grab onto Till’s shirt and rips it open with a scattering of buttons. Till grunts in displeasure, but he doesn’t seem to care that much. Paul drags it off his arms, leaving him shirtless. He shifts closer on his knees, until they’re nearly flush, and then nudges his nose up against Till’s. Angling his head, he kisses him. Till drapes one arm around Paul’s shoulders, hand raising to cup the back of his head, fingers among locks of blonde.

Schneider watches their lips—pretty and slim, broad and full—mash together. This time, the kiss is hungry and fiery. Their mouths overlap together, the gasps of their breath joining the wet sound of their crushing lips. Schneider enjoys watching them make out like this. Till grabs a fistful of Paul’s hair, bites his bottom lip between his teeth, pulls it back, lets it slide out from his teeth. Paul is panting, eyes lidded, face flushed. Then Till leans back in to capture his mouth in another lock. Paul’s hand is hovering, unsure of where to settle, distracted by their heated kiss. He seems to catch up with his memory; he brings his hands down to get Till’s belt open.

Once his pants are open, Paul slides his hand in to slowly grope at his cock, feeling him up as their lips move together. Schneider doesn’t protest. He allows it; after all, Till is not the one who shall be punished.

Schneider snaps his fingers, earning alert glances from both men.

“Finish undressing, Till.”

Till nods. He detaches from Paul and rises from the bed to step out of his remaining clothing, revealing the entirety of his broad, muscular body and his body hair. His cock is stiff, shrouded by thick pubic hair. Schneider smiles faintly, admiring him. Paul is eating him up like eye candy just as much. Till takes a seat on the bed beside Paul, trains his eyes on Schneider.

Approaching the bed calmly, Schneider observes both of them. Their eyes are fixed on him. Waiting for his bidding. Schneider smiles thinly.

“Now, I believe it’s time for you to become reacquainted with your role, Paul. Three times now you have failed to meet my expectations. A shame, considering how much time we’ve spent fixing your attitude. I suppose it has been a while.”

He pauses, letting his words sink in. Paul looks apprehensive, watching him with pressed lips and a slightly lowered head. Schneider runs a hand up through his curls and then takes a seat on the bed beside Paul. He grabs Paul by the bicep, meeting his uncertain gray eyes. Paul swallows hard. Schneider pats his lap.

“Come here. Closer.”

Paul silently obeys; he moves onto his lap, straddling his thighs, his eyes downcast. Schneider’s hands curl around Paul’s hips. His warm touch has a shiver going up Paul’s back. He bites his lip, peeks up at him warily. Schneider has a cool expression on his face, blue eyes trained on him.

“You can put your hands on me.”

A permission that Paul was waiting for; he brings his hand up to carefully rest them on Schneider’s chest. He watches himself stroke his fingers along the soft fabric of his black shirt, feeling him through it. Schneider’s big hands roam up and down over Paul’s sides, and then further south to grab handfuls of his ass, squeezing hard enough it has Paul sucking in air through his teeth.

“Now, I need you to be a good boy,” Schneider whispers, continuing to hold that painful grasp on Paul’s ass, fingers clutching at him so tightly it has the flesh bulging out between them. Paul ducks his head, presses his forehead to Schneider’s shoulder. He nods, hands sliding around from Schneider’s chest to rest on his sides. Beside them, Till watches silently, unsure where Schneider plans to take this.

Paul enjoys the warmth of him. A silent appreciation—while he may put up a disobedient front, he genuinely loves it when Schneider touches him like this. Holds him like this. Paul breathes him in; he smells like _himself,_ and his deep cologne. It has Paul smiling.

“It won’t last forever,” Schneider goes on softly, regaining Paul’s full attention, “I simply need to teach you a lesson. So, I’d like for you to lay across my lap, Paul. You know what has to be done.”

Dread and arousal alike mix into something overpowering in Paul’s gut. He bites his lip, heat rising into his face, his heart jumping to a start. He nods a little into Schneider’s shoulder and then silently, slowly moves from sitting on his lap, to draping himself across his thighs. He curls his legs without quite meaning to, making himself smaller, while he props up on his elbows, head lowered.

He feels the stare of the other two on his naked body. His ears are burning at this point. He’s humiliated. But with the humiliation comes subtle excitement. His stiff cock is pinned to Schneider’s thigh, between his belly and his pants. Paul peeks back at Till past his shoulder to see him seated there, his hard green eyes trained on them. He meets his gaze. Paul hides his face in his arm and lets out a deep exhale.

The way he’s bending his legs has his hips angling to the side. Schneider fixes his position by forcefully nudging his calves, having him unfold his legs. His feet knock into Till’s thigh. Till reaches out to rest his hand on the back of his calf. Paul fidgets slightly as his embarrassment heightens. He clutches a weak fistful of the covers under them. A big, warm hand rests over his ass.

“You don’t need to count,” Schneider murmurs, his voice rougher, darker. “I want you to absorb this. I want you to take each strike as a reminder of my disappointment. We are done when I say we are done. Understand?”

Paul’s dick is aching, only dripping at this point, soaking into Schneider’s pants. He feels utterly trapped and humiliated, but it only contributes to his arousal. He grunts under his breath, brow furrowed and face hot, his legs restlessly rubbing together. He nods.

“Tell me,” Schneider growls.

“I understand, sir,” Paul whispers, his face scorching. Schneider, pleased, strokes his fingers across the swell of his (rather cute) backside. He squeezes him there. Paul is wound up with fear and anticipation. His entire body ripples with tension.

The touch to his ass leaves.

A shift of cloth, Schneider’s body moving minutely underneath his own, and then a jarring connection of his big hand against Paul’s backside creates a resounding slap that fills the bedroom. Paul jerks, but makes no sound. The pain flares through his ass like lightning, so sudden and swift. But Schneider doesn’t wait. He draws back his hand, brings it back down against his ass with the same exact amount of force. Again, Paul only flinches, his legs fidgeting. Till’s hand continues resting on his calf.

Again: withdrawal, a cocking of Schneider’s hand, and then he swings it down to strike him across the seat of his ass, his hand broad and powerful—effective. Paul jerks and his hands clench. Fire builds and builds.

Again. And again. The crack of palm meeting his ass fills the room, the shifting of clothing, Paul’s steadily increasing breathing. It all centers in his core, intensifying, a burning severity.

Only on the tenth strike does Paul realize he’s increasing force with every sweep of his hand. The practice and mastery of his drum playing is obviously translating into this. It had been so subtle, Paul didn’t notice until suddenly his ass is _throbbing_ and the brutality of his strikes has Paul’s entire body reacting. His legs jerk against the bed, the muscle in his back and arms flexing, his belly bubbling and boiling with heat, his jaw clenching, lips pulled back to bare his teeth. He’s putting his strength into it now.

Not only does he amplify the ferocity of his spanking, but the speed. Soon enough, at the fifteenth strike, Schneider doesn’t give Paul time to react at all. Back to back, nonstop, unrelenting, mercilessly, he whips his hand against his clenching ass, until he finally obtains what he had been reaching for: Paul arches his back and cries out, a pained groan, his hand flying back. He barely restrains the reflexive urge to push at Schneider’s wrist. Instead, he jerks his hand back to the covers, clutching at them so hard his knuckles whiten. His bleached locks are a mess, falling into his eyes, his silver necklace clinging to his grimacing mouth from the way his head is angled.

Paul begins to wiggle a little more violently. He pulls at the blanket, feet pushing desperately at the bed, knocking into Till’s thigh. Schneider hooks his arm around his back, attempting to keep him still as he spanks the width of his palm across his reddened asscheeks, ignoring the flaring pain in his own hand from the force of it. Again, again, again, he spanks his hand against the seat of his ass, the crack of skin meeting skin joining Paul’s whimpers and gasps of pain. At the twenty-fifth strike, Paul begins to sob and scream, his knee jerking down to knock into Schneider’s thigh, his hips twisting away.

Schneider allows a reprieve. He stops spanking him and hoists him back onto his lap, righting his body so he’s no longer angled away from him. He had taken thirty strikes. Paul pants heavily, going limp on top of him. His legs are trembling, his back clenched up. Aching, pulsating fire is searing through the abused skin of his ass. Paul moans weakly into the bed.

“What is your color?” Schneider asks quietly, breathing heavier himself. He begins massaging gently at Paul’s smarting ass, squeezing the flared flesh between his fingers. Paul holds back a whimper that swells in his throat. The process of thought in Paul’s mind is utterly scattered, in ruin, so it takes him a moment to regather himself and register the question. Panting with his cheek against the bed, he closes his eyes and breathes thickly, “Green. Green.”

“Good,” Schneider murmurs. With a clearer mind now, Paul registers Schneider’s stiff cock pressing up against his belly through his pants. That has arousal smoldering in his core. He can’t help but raise up on an elbow to reach down and cup his hand over the bulge, squeezing firmly, hard enough it has Schneider’s legs jerking under him. He’s so _big_ and absolutely rock hard in his grasp. Paul moans under his breath, mindlessly turned on. A hand suddenly grabbing his wrist and yanking his arm behind his back has him falling down onto his front again.

“I never gave you permission to touch me,” Schneider growls, “Do you _want_ to antagonize me?”

“I just want you,” Paul breathes, back curling with his submissiveness and embarrassment, head ducked down, forehead against the bed. Schneider keeps his arm locked to his back with one hand, the other squeezing his ass so firmly it hurts. Paul winces, making a slight noise in his throat.

“You don’t get what you want,” Schneider states, voice icy. Paul huffs, wiggling his hips. Schneider growls.

“I am in disbelief. Even in the middle of your punishment, you disobey.”

Paul bites his lip. He says nothing. Schneider speaks again, this time addressing the other man who had been watching silently.

“Till, grab one of your belts for me.”

“Wait, sir, please,” Paul gasps, eyes widening and stomach twisting. “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry. Please, I’ll be good.”

“You’ve already promised me that,” Schneider says flatly, unimpressed, “Why should I be merciful when your apologies are empty?”

A rock forms in Paul’s throat, his mouth dry. He’s speechless from his combined feeling of fear and apprehensive excitement. Till rises from the bed with a creak and then paces out to pull open his closet, unhooking a belt from the rack installed on the door. Paul stares wide-eyed at the floor and fidgets his legs anxiously, hand grabbing tightly onto Schneider’s thigh, his other arm kept pinned to his back. He hears Till approach the bed and pass Schneider the belt. Paul’s heart is hammering. He’s scared.

“I want your help restraining him if he can’t take it as he should,” Schneider says to Till. Till nods and then takes a seat in front of Paul. Paul looks up at him with pleading in his eyes, his bangs partially obscuring his vision. Till watches him with a leveled expression. Reaching down, he’s gentle as he cups his hand around Paul’s stubbled cheek. Paul drops his head, pressed into Till’s thigh.

“I expect better from you after this,” Schneider says. Paul hears him fold the belt in half one-handed, the buckle of it clicking. Paul squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t say anything, fear holding his tongue. He keeps his face hidden between the bed and Till’s thigh.

The first whip comes without warning. Just a shift of Schneider’s body, and then he’s bringing it down upon his ass with a crack that fills the room. Paul jerks and cries out, his nails digging into Schneider’s thigh through his pants. He begins to shake, sniffling into Till’s thigh. That hurt so fucking bad.

Schneider is patient. He lets the agonizing sting fade before he cocks back his arm—Paul tensing up, sucking in a breath—and then spanks him with brutal force, the belt whipping across his angry red ass, wrapping around to his hip. The sound of leather meeting skin is explosive in the room, followed by Paul’s scream of agony. Then Schneider picks up the pace, sparing Paul the torture of lengthening his punishment.

Five strikes, one following the other, the crack of the belt loud and vicious. The leather strikes across his searing skin, against the center of his ass, delivering such a paralyzing pain that cannot be put into words. His ass is on fire. Paul sobs and cries out, his hand pulling so strongly at Schneider’s pantleg, the seams of his pants begins to split. Till keeps a gentle hand around the back of Paul’s head, fingers in his haphazard blonde locks, an attempt to comfort him. Schneider ceases after the fifth whip—he lets Paul’s arm go to stroke his hand over his lower back, above his alarmingly red ass. He doesn’t touch it, which Paul is thankful for. He pants breathlessly into the bed, moaning with his eyes rolling shut.

“Ten more, and then we’re done,” Schneider whispers, sliding his hand across Paul’s back to hook it around his side, keeping him rooted. Paul whimpers. That has Schneider pausing and then asking once more, “Color?”

Paul groans. He sucks in a breath, parting the wall of arousal and agony that clouds his mind.

“…Green…” he breathes, voice slurred. His cock is throbbing with heat, almost as much as his ass. He can feel the mess of his pre-cum, sticking to his belly and making Schneider’s pants cling to his skin. Schneider readjusts his grip on his side and then raises the hand wielding the belt. Paul tenses up.

The succeeding strike is utterly devastating. The whip of the belt lashing across his screaming skin has unspeakable pain erupting through his lower half. Paul bucks, sobbing breathlessly as his hand flies back to cover his ass. His leg slides from the bed, foot planting on the floor. He feels a big hand grab his wrist, tug his arm back to expose his searing ass again.

“Please,” Paul gasps, his face flushed and lips in a grimace, drool on his chin. Schneider doesn’t say anything. Paul hears him lift his arm. Nine more to go.

The belt cracks across his skin with enough force, it has Paul twisting his body while groaning in agony. His ass is flaming, scorched with the fire of pain. He’s quivering involuntarily. Schneider doesn’t give him a reprieve.

One, two, three, four, five, six—he beats the belt against his ass again and _again._ Paul screams throughout it while his body writhes, legs twisting, hands pulling forcefully at the sheets, back arching, hips angling away. He begins to pull himself across his lap to escape it, but Till is suddenly bearing his weight into him, keeping him pinned to the bed. He gathers Paul’s flexing arms into his hands and winds them behind his back, effectively immobilizing him. Schneider stopped spanking him. He lets the belt rest across his backside. Even that weight hurts. Paul moans deliriously. He’s shuddering and sucking in shaky breaths, his hands in white-knuckled fists.

Schneider doesn’t warn him. He slides the belt from his ass, raises it with a stern expression on his face, the muscles of his arm tense, and then brings it down upon him, the leather cracking against his welting skin. Paul cries out a hoarse yell of agony and begins to collapse from his lap. Schneider lifts his knee, righting his body just long enough to spank him with a final brutal whip of the belt. Till manages to keep Paul rooted on his lap long enough for Schneider to toss the belt away and wrap his arms around him.

Shaking uncontrollably, Paul is limp in their hold as they help him back up onto the bed. Schneider moves to lay back with him, arranging him onto his side with Till’s assistance. Paul’s eyes roll open, his mouth lax. Schneider cups the back of his head, leans in to kiss over his forehead and brow. Paul whimpers. Schneider holds him close and murmurs, “That’s it, Paul. You’re done. You did well.”

Paul mumbles intelligibly, before swallowing hard and trying again.

Slightly hoarse, he speaks, furrowing his brow with hazy eyes, “I-I can’t… Fuck.”

“It’s alright,” Schneider says gently, “We can just rest for a moment. Close your eyes.”

Happy to oblige, Paul lets them roll shut. He goes limp, bearing his weight into Schneider. Schneider drapes his arm around him and kisses his temple. Paul makes a weak noise. Heated gaze flicking up to meet Till’s, Schneider murmurs, “Go get some water.”

Till, looking concerned, nods and rises to exit the bedroom. He returns a moment later with a glass of water in his hand. He takes a slow seat beside their laying bodies and holds it out, his face tense with worry. Schneider gives him a pointed look, earning his wary eyes, and then shakes his head with a slight smile. An unspoken reassurance. Till says nothing. He relaxes slightly while Schneider quietly takes the water from him.

“Paul,” he whispers, earning a lethargic hum from the man laying limply in his embrace. “Do you want some water?”

A pause, a weak clear of his throat, and then Paul mumbles, his voice clearer, “Yes. Please.”

“Can you raise yourself enough to drink?”

Paul nods, his wild locks brushing against Schneider’s throat. Schneider leans away to give him room. Paul then weakly props up onto an elbow, lifting his head to look at the younger man with a bleary-eyed gaze. He licks his lips. Schneider smiles softly at him and passes him the water. Paul doesn’t seem to struggle to bring it to his lips. His gray eyes are a little hazy as he takes a long drink. Schneider rests his hand on his belly, strokes him there affectionately. Paul downs the entire glass, sucks in a deep breath. Till reaches out to carefully take it from his hand. Paul splats down into the bed, cocooned under Schneider. He lazily wiggles closer to him and drapes a leg over him—it pulls on the skin of his ass and has him hissing.

“My poor fucking ass,” Paul mumbles. That’s more like him. Schneider cracks a smile. Till chuckles while he sets the empty glass on the nightstand.

“Come join us,” Schneider murmurs, gesturing Till closer. Till obliges; he moves to spoon up behind Paul, careful to avoid his abused backside. Paul melts further, letting out a deep exhale. Schneider brings his hand up to begin threading his fingers through his bleached hair.

Nothing is said. Till has one muscular arm around Paul’s midsection, hand tucked under his side, his black bangs tickling against his back. Schneider watches over them both with loving eyes, his fingers working through Paul’s hair. They lay like this for five minutes.

Five minutes of silence. Slow breathing. Stillness. Momentary serenity.

Schneider begins to wonder if Paul fell asleep, before suddenly there’s a hand that has mysteriously found it’s way between Schneider’s thighs. It strokes up over the inside of them, before finding his groin. Confident fingers cup around his dick and squeeze lightly. Schneider’s hand freezes in Paul’s hair, surprised.

“Aw, where’d it go?” Paul mumbles, spoken partially into Schneider’s black shirt. Schneider pauses, and then laughs.

“It’s still there, just not as interested. Why? Did you want to keep going?”

“Of course,” Paul says, pulling back to look at him with clarity in his gray eyes. Schneider searches his face. He smiles faintly, nods. Paul arching up onto an elbow to kiss him takes him a little off-guard. Behind Paul, Till shifts closer and watches with calm eyes as they begin to share a deep kiss. Schneider intimately cups the side of his face with a broad hand, thumb on his cheek, pressing into his skin and pulling him closer as he angles his head to properly return it. Paul moans into it—so easily, and openly. He isn’t so verbal unless every layer has been stripped from him. Schneider hums against his mouth, pleased.

Their lips mash together, overlapping and pushing and _consuming._ They kiss passionately, almost fiercely. Paul clutches at him, his brow knit and face hot. His erection is eagerly returning with a fiery anticipation for more. Schneider dips his tongue into his mouth, tracing the seam of his lips, tasting the ridges of his teeth, earning a gasp from Paul. Then he bites his bottom lip. He withdraws, letting it snap out from between his teeth with a wet noise.

Panting, Paul sags back into Till and looks up at Schneider with lustful eyes. He reaches down to test the waters again; he gropes at his cock through his pants. A smirk curls at his lips, feeling his stiff erection through the layers. Schneider’s jaw flexes, his eyes widening as Paul grips his dick in his confident hand, squeezing.

Through a display of iron self-control, Schneider reaches down, takes his wrist, withdraws his touch. Paul looks disappointed, but then Schneider glances up to meet Till’s hungry, wolf-like eyes and states firmly amongst his heavy breathing, “Paul is going to get on his hands and knees. You are going to eat his ass.”

Till grunts an affirmative. Surprising them both, he leans in over Paul’s smaller body, pinning him to the bed, and bites the skin of his shoulder between his teeth, earning an endearing giggle from Paul. Till’s big hand ventures over Paul’s heaving belly, fingers stroking across his happy trail, and then grips his cock. Paul hums lowly, a pleased moan. Till bites at his neck, his jaw, his ear, hard enough it has Paul’s hand knocking back into his bicep as he gasps in pain.

“Alright,” Schneider laughs lightly, amused at Till’s display, “Come on.”

Till finally draws back, grabs Paul’s bicep. Paul is red-faced and panting as he gets up to position himself on his hands and knees. Schneider’s eyes widen. The skin of his ass is welting. And bears small spots of red which implies bruises will surely develop. Paul watches over his shoulder, lip between his teeth, as Till moves up behind him. Schneider adjusts himself to give them more room, though he remains seated on the bed for a better perspective. He can see Paul’s cock hanging from between his thighs, already dripping onto the bed.

Stroking his hands up over Paul’s thighs, across fair hair, Till shifts closer between his legs. He then gingerly brings his hands up to hook his thumbs into his asscheeks, spreading him open. Paul whines and rocks forward, his face pinching with pain. Schneider swallows hard. His dick is pulsating in his pants. He can feel the wetness in his own briefs. He brings a hand down to squeeze at himself as both he and Till admire Paul’s spanked ass, his pink, clenching asshole. He obviously shaved for this occasion, knowing they would be getting kinky.

“What a pretty hole,” Till murmurs, his first words spoken in a while. His voice is thick with lust. He strokes his thumb across it. Schneider makes a noise of agreement. Paul ducks his head, embarrassed. They both know he hates it when they say such things. Then Till finally leans in.

He lets his tongue drag up from his shaven balls, across his taint, to his asshole. Paul moans openly, hanging his head. Till lets go of his bruised ass to instead curl both hands around his thighs, pulling him closer as he begins licking into him. From his perspective, Schneider sees Paul’s eyes flutter shut, his mouth falling open, his blonde locks hanging limply towards the bed. He looks this debauched only after headbanging during a concert. Schneider always liked this look. The look of Paul letting go.

“Oh, fuck…” Paul breathes, his face lax and hands in fists atop the bed. Schneider redirects his stare from Paul’s face to the sight of Till’s face in his ass. But it’s not quite a satisfying view. Schneider rises up and shifts closer so he can reach out and place a hand on his asscheek to spread him open again, giving him the delicious sight of Till’s broad, pink tongue repeatedly licking over his hole. Paul grunts, derived from the pain of the grab to his ass, joined by the pleasure of Till’s ministrations.

Till’s black bangs are falling into his eyes. He looks just as hot as Paul, eating him out like this. He shifts closer, bringing his hand up from Paul’s thigh to grip his cock. Schneider hums and murmurs, “Don’t let him come. But you may touch him.”

Paul whimpers. Till begins slowly tugging at his painfully hard dick as he pushes his tongue into his wet asshole. Paul sags forward onto his elbows, gasping. He slides his knees further apart, welcoming it. Schneider watches quietly, stares at the visual of Till tonguefucking him. He repeatedly slides his tongue into him, withdraws to lick into him, curling his tongue firmly into the wrinkled skin, before pushing it back in. A back and forth repetitive motion, until he leans back, giving his jaw a reprieve. Paul’s asshole is flushed and wet, loosened from Till’s tongue. Schneider cannot resist. With one hand, he keeps him spread while he brings his other in to stroke his thumb over the wet, wrinkled skin. Paul groans—he reflexively clenches up. Schneider slowly pushes his thumb into his ass, watching with hungry eyes as he opens up for him.

He pushes it in and out of him a few times, earning noises of pleasure from Paul, before withdrawing and instead grabbing Till’s raven hair. He pushes his face back in. Till grunts, begins eating him out eagerly with firm drags of his tongue. Paul moans, clutching at the covers.

“Please,” he slurs, “Fuck me. I don’t care who.”

“You’re so goddamn demanding,” Schneider chides, keeping that grip on Till’s hair, forcing his face in Paul’s ass, his icy blue eyes narrowing, “Do you want me to spank you again? Here I am rewarding you, and even then, you’re ungrateful.”

“No!” Paul gasps, hand sliding down over the bed while he lifts his head to look back at Schneider pleadingly, “I’m sorry. This is good. This is good.”

Schneider doesn’t respond. He simply watches as Till licks into his hole. Only when he forces his tongue into him does Paul moan eagerly and push his ass back into his face. Till had been slowly stroking at Paul’s cock throughout this, and Schneider had forgotten, distracted by the exchange, until Till withdrew his hand and held it out in display. Schneider is amazed to see it covered in pre-cum. He releases Till’s hair. Till sits back, breathing hard, and looks up at Schneider. Schneider slides his fingers down over Paul’s asshole, earning a breathless, pleading noise and a glance of needy eyes.

“Till,” Schneider begins, his voice thick. Till grunts, raking his unraveled bangs back over his head. Schneider meets his green-eyed gaze and says, “I want you to finger yourself. Paul is going to fuck you.”

Surprise blooms on both of their faces. Paul sits down on the bed. Schneider smirks a little, amused. Till looks subtly baffled. Schneider reaches out to cup his rugged face and leans in to kiss his forehead, before murmuring, “Go on. The lube is on the nightstand.”

Till nods. He rises from the bed. He grabs the lube while Schneider shifts closer to Paul and reaches out to gently grip his jaw in a hand, earning his full attention. He searches in his gray eyes as he says firmly, “You’re going to suck him off.”

Swallowing hard, Paul nods. Schneider glances over to see Till getting adjusted against the headboard, letting his legs fall open to rub lube up against himself. Releasing Paul’s jaw, Schneider clutches his bicep instead and begins to tug him across the bed—Paul stumbles and crawls along on his hands and knees, until Schneider throws him against the pillows beside Till. Paul lands with a slight bounce, his legs knocking into Till.

“Get to it,” Schneider commands, firmly. Paul obediently moves to lay on his side next to the other man. He leans in to kiss at Till’s hairy belly, nuzzling into it with a slight smile growing on his lips. Schneider allows it, crossing his muscular arms with amusement blooming on his face. Till sets a hand on Paul’s head, affectionately. Paul presses a firm kiss to his belly and then his hip before shifting closer, propped up on an elbow, and bringing a hand in to angle his erection up.

Schneider peeks over between Till’s legs to see he already has two fingers inside himself. He refocuses on the sight of Paul dragging his pink tongue up along the underside of his thick cock. Till’s fingers tighten in his blonde locks. Seeing them like this, intertwined with Paul licking at him, his gray eyes drawn up to Till’s face—Schneider enjoys it. He finds pleasure in merely watching them. They have an intimacy that no one else has. It’s always intrigued him how his relationship with Paul versus Till’s is vastly different. There’s more intimacy and passion between those two.

Paul has his other slender hand on Till’s flexing belly, roaming up across his midsection, caressing his muscular chest, feeling the hair there, the sweat, the warmth of his skin. He watches Till with fiery eyes, mouthing at his erection, until he stops teasing and ducks his head to suck him into his mouth. Till’s jaw clenches, his gaze darkening. His hand cups the back of Paul’s head as the smaller man repeatedly took him into his mouth, the wet sounds of his sucking filling the room. Schneider wets his lips; he can’t help but reach down and grip himself through his pants, watching this.

The muscle in Paul’s back is flexing and shifting with each lowering of his head—Schneider stares, admiring the visual. Paul’s freckles are stark against the pale skin of his back and arms. Schneider shifts closer on the bed and reaches out to stroke at them on his shoulder blade with gentle fingers. Paul hums around Till.

He then goes down on him, letting his cock penetrate his throat with his face pressing into his groin. Till’s hand shakily descends from his unkempt hair to grab the back of his neck. Biting his lip, Schneider continues caressing Paul’s soft back: stroking across his freckles, feeling the swell of muscle, tracing the column of his spine.

He hears Paul cough twice as he withdraws, letting Till’s girthy cock slide out from his mouth. Panting heavily, regaining his composure, Paul leans in to mouth sloppily at his wet dick, kept pinned to his hairy belly. Till lets his broad hand roam down between Paul’s shifting shoulder blades, while Schneider’s touch lingers at Paul’s lower back.

“I’m ready if you are,” Till murmurs, earning a flick of hungry blue eyes. Till is watching him with a piercing gaze. Schneider nods. Till removes his fingers. Eagerly, Paul mouths his way back up Till’s shaft so he can take his cock back into his mouth. But he freezes when Schneider snaps his fingers and speaks firmly, “That will do. Paul, you’re going to fuck him from behind. Till, face the headboard.”

Till gently grasps Paul’s shoulders and sits him up. Suddenly, boldly, Paul’s hands raise to cup Till’s jaw, while he surges upwards to kiss him. Till huffs, brow knitting. He returns it in a few firm purses of his lips, while Paul clings to him and mouths at him eagerly. Schneider rolls his eyes.

“Alright, come on,” Till murmurs, gently pushing him away. Paul laughs, and obliges. He moves aside so Till can adjust himself. He turns to face the headboard, sits back on his calves and looks over at them expectantly. He appears rather imposing and, well, _big,_ even in that submissive position. He’s all broadness and muscle. Kneeling at the headboard in anticipation to be fucked is unusual for him, though it is more than welcome.

Without hesitation, Paul slides up behind him, biting his lip in anticipation. Schneider moves to sit beside them. He reaches out to touch Till’s hip. Till huffs, turns his head away, hiding his face behind his sleek black locks which fall to shroud his features. He rises up so he’s on his knees. Paul scoots up behind him and grips himself in a hand, his other cupping around Till’s hip.

Schneider notices the glance Paul throws his way. Waiting for permission. Schneider smiles faintly. He reaches out to set a hand on Paul’s lower back, an unspoken encouragement. Till is silent, though when Paul shifts closer and sweeps the head of his cock down between his asscheeks, he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, heard by the other two.

Schneider knows how seldom Till is put in this position. And he knows just how much he enjoys releasing the reins and giving himself to another he deeply trusts.

With his hand clutching Till’s hip, Paul keeps him still as he begins to slowly push in. Gradually, carefully, thoughtful of his comfort. The muscle in Till’s back ripples with tension. He slides his knees further apart, hangs his head. When Paul’s pelvis meets his ass, Paul shifts closer, grinding up against him. Till grunts. Paul’s eyes become hooded, his mouth opening slightly. He brings his hand up to roam it upwards along the slope of Till’s broad back.

“Tell me how it feels,” Schneider murmurs—unspecifying who, exactly, he’s addressing.

“Like there’s a dick up my ass,” Till mumbles. Paul breathlessly laughs and squeezes his hip again. Schneider smiles faintly, amused. He then speaks softly, directing Paul, “Go on. Start moving.”

With his slender hands roaming up over Till’s sides, fingers splaying out to feed on the feeling of his skin, Paul happily obeys. He begins to rock against him, slow and long and easy. Keeping his broad hand on Paul’s lower back, Schneider feels the motion of his body. Till is silent, though the way he ducks his head and sags forward onto his elbows conveys enough. Schneider rather likes the visual of Paul’s smaller—and yet muscular—body moving against Till’s, his hands gentle on Till’s body. Schneider brings his hand down from Paul’s back to stroke it over his thigh, feeling the flex of his muscle, the light touch of fair body hair.

It takes a minute of Paul slowly pulling in and out of Till before the glide becomes easier. When it is, Paul plants a foot on the bed for leverage to begin fucking him earnestly. He pulls him back into his thrusts, which in turn has Till jerking forward with every connection of their bodies, his head lowered to the pillows, his hand outstretching to press flatly to the headboard. He begins to grunt under his breath, while Paul is breathing heavier, his face tensed with pleasure. Schneider smiles to himself, deciding he may as well make this more interesting.

Reaching down in-between Paul’s thighs, he grabs his balls when they come in contact with his fingers. Paul gasps, hands tightening on Till’s sides. He looks at Schneider with a red face and wide eyes. He looks adorable. Schneider grins and squeezes his balls while musing, “Well, come on, Paul. Don’t keep the man waiting.”

Till actually turns his head to look over, peeking past his haphazard black bangs. Paul hesitates, biting his lip. Schneider alleviates his uncertainty by gently fondling him there, a reassurance. His big fingers cradling and massaging his balls has Paul collapsing forward onto a hand, his chest meeting Till’s back. He rests his stubbled cheek against Till, eyes closing with his bleached locks falling across his brow. He actually groans. Schneider smirks and then speaks firmly, gingerly squeezing him again, “Fuck him.”

More than willing, Paul weakly sits back up, regaining his composure. He squeezes his slim fingers around Till’s hips, holding him fast as he begins to rock into him again, slow and gradual. Schneider continues gripping his balls, following the motion of his body with a lingering smile on his face. Paul moans, mouth open and eyes closed, brow furrowed. Till is huffing and grunting—Schneider notices he begins to push back to meet him half-way. Schneider continues gently fondling Paul’s balls as he thrusts his hips into Till’s ass at a faster pace, fucking him with greed. Till is groaning now, hand clutching at one of the pillows, white-knuckled. His back is flexing, head bowed.

Paul becomes far too eager and begins slamming into Till with hard bucks of his hips, his pelvis noisily smacking against his ass—the groping to his balls is obviously heightening his lust, therefore edging him on. Realizing this, Schneider squeezes them in his hand, harder and harder, until Paul is grunting aloud from the pain. He shakily slows down, whimpering like a wounded animal. Schneider watches him with a schooled expression. He’s trembling now.

“Slower,” Schneider murmurs firmly, gradually releasing the painful hold on his balls. He massages at them apologetically. Paul lets out a deep breath and ducks his head to rest his forehead to Till’s shoulder blade, his blonde locks falling into his eyes. Schneider sees his stubbled jaw clench.

Paul begins to move again. He rolls his hips against Till in long, deep rocks. Till reaches back to rest his hand over Paul’s thigh, digging his fingertips in and pulling him closer, encouraging him.

“God, Till,” Paul slurs into the heated skin of his back, and begins to snap his hips against him, drilling into him now. Schneider’s knuckles meeting Till’s taint every time Paul shoves in is enough of an indication of how deeply he’s screwing him. Till grunts aloud with every jarring shove of Paul’s body against his own. Schneider smiles faintly, pleased with this display. He enjoys seeing Till like this, bent over for someone else, flushed and sweating and moaning. Paul is just as talented a top as a bottom, and it’s evident now. His lovely hands are traversing across Till’s sides, sweeping around to hold his hairy belly as he drives into him with deep, powerful thrusts of hips. He kisses at his back. Watching him, Schneider sees the way his eyes are clenched shut, his face flushed, his lips wet, bitten red. He looks delicious.

Finally, Schneider releases his balls to roam his hand up across his bruising ass, over the slope of his back, feeling across his freckled skin dotted with sweat. He lets his hand ascend to clutch his wild blonde locks in his grip. He leans in towards him, to murmur into his ear, “Till is going to turn over and you’re going to take hold of his legs. I want you to bend him in half as you fuck him. He should know how it feels to be made small.”

Obediently, Paul nods. Panting heavily, he sits back on his calves, slipping out of him. He squeezes Till’s hips. Till is silent as he moves onto his back, adjusting himself against the pillows. Paul is confident; he reaches out to hook his hands under Till’s knees as he shifts closer. Till angles his body to accommodate it. Paul manages to hike his legs up far enough that Till’s feet end up against Paul’s shoulders. Till wheezes, and then laughs, breathlessly.

“This is not comfortable!” he barks, hands clutching at the covers underneath them, “I’m too big for this! And my dick is nearly in my face!”

Paul giggles while Schneider smiles.

“Maybe with my help you’ll finally be able to blow yourself,” Paul remarks, still breathing hard himself, and then pushes his legs further up. Till laughs sharply and pushes at Paul’s stomach as he cries, voice rough and strained, “Don’t you dare! Schneider!”

“Paul, go easy on him,” Schneider snorts, crossing his arms. Paul snickers like a brat, but relents. He lets Till’s lower back rest against the bed, his muscular legs no longer pinned up in such an extreme position.

“He’s too heavy for that, anyways,” Paul teases, squeezing his fingers around Till’s knees. Till pinches him on the side. Paul flinches and laughs, “Hey!”

“Will you just hurry up and put it back in me?” Till sighs, dropping his head back against the pillows, his black locks falling across his forehead and eyes.

Without a retort, a smile on his face, Paul obliges. He reaches down to grip himself before smoothly pushing back into Till. Till’s eyes close, his jaw clenching. Paul lets out the softest moan. He shifts closer on his knees, their lower halves locked, with Till positioned at an incredible angle. At least, for him. He’s not flexible.

Schneider simply sits back and watches with a slight smile as Paul begins to fuck him with firm, deep rolls of his hips. He likes the way Paul’s back flexes and rocks with the motion. His thighs are shapely and muscular, and a pleasure to watch as he uses them for leverage to thrust. The way his slender hands squeeze and clench around Till’s knees, his fingers long and slim, wrists and forearms decorated with soft hair. Schneider finds himself yearning to be in Till’s place, though once he becomes aware of that desire, he brushes it away.

Till is watching Paul drive his hips into him, his brow furrowed and mouth slightly open. His sizable cock is resting along the curve of his hip, still completely stiff. Schneider is impressed that he’s withstood the urge to touch himself without permission; but then again, Till has always been a good boy, driven to please.

Soon enough, Paul’s thrusting increases in force. He has Till nearly bent in half, pinning him to the bed as he fucks him, snapping his hips down against his ass as he moans aloud, hands gripping firmly around his knees. Till is groaning and grunting at this point, his hands clutching at Paul’s hips, nails digging in. They’re genuinely _fucking_ now, as true to the word as it is, with Paul dripping with sweat, his body shaking, trembling with his upcoming orgasm, driving into Till desperately, hungrily. Till is baring his teeth now, eyes narrowed, his spider-like bangs clinging to his temple and brow with sweat. To Schneider, he looks absolutely, utterly sexy as he’s being pounded like this. It’s fitting of him.

“I’m close,” Paul groans, and then releases Till’s legs to collapse forward onto his hands. Schneider makes no protest, he only observes with glinting eyes and a satisfied smile. Paul leans into Till, hiding his face in his neck as he clutches fistfuls of the covers, continuing to drive into him with uncontrolled, greedy thrusts, the muscles of his legs and back flexing deliciously. Clamping a hand over the back of Paul’s head, gripping his bleached locks, Till brings his legs around him and digs his heels into his ass. Schneider stares, wide-eyed—Till is pushing right into his welts. That seemed to be enough. Paul slams into Till, growling and moaning and gasping. He’s shaking uncontrollably as his hips violently shove against him. Till groans aloud and snarls Paul’s name.

They’re a mess of sweat and heat, panting, tangled with each other. It takes a moment for it to die down, for Paul to come back down to Earth.

After placing a soft, loving kiss to Till’s sweat-slicked chest, Paul sits back sluggishly, breathing heavily. He cups his hands under Till’s knees, brings his legs up again as he glances down to watch himself slowly pull out. Schneider shifts closer, watching as Paul’s flushed cock pops out of him. There is a mess of lube and pre-cum between his asscheeks. Schneider is pleased that it doesn’t just gush out of him. It seems Paul came deep inside of him, far enough that it won’t slip out so easily. Schneider glances up to see Till hiding with an arm draped across his face, his chest heaving as he pants.

Paul lets Till’s legs rest upon the bed. He strokes his hands over his thighs as he glances over at Schneider, wetting his lips with a drift of his tongue. Clearing his throat, Schneider speaks smoothly, delivering another command.

“I want you to ride Till now,” he says, searching in his eyes. Paul blinks, eyebrows raised, and then nods. He moves to get up from between Till’s legs. Schneider watches Till. His muscular body is slick with sweat, his hands in fists, his face remaining hidden behind his arm. Only when Paul grabs the lube and kneels beside Till to begin fingering himself does Till rub his hands down over his face and rest them upon his chest. Licking his lips, he looks towards Schneider, an unusual vulnerability in his vibrant green eyes.

Offering him a slight smile, Schneider plants a hand on the bed and leans in to kiss him. Till makes a slight noise, hand raising to gingerly cup it around Schneider’s jaw. Their mouths purse together, gently and slowly. Till’s lips are full, and plush. Easily overlapping his own. Their kiss is long and loving, until Schneider breaks away to look down at him with a calm gaze. He reaches up to gingerly brush back his haphazard black bangs, saying with a smile, “I think it’s time for your reward.”

Glancing over, he sees Paul squeezing another dollop of lubricant into his palm, before snapping the bottle shut and tossing it aside. He crawls over. Schneider sits back, Till’s hand sliding from his jaw. He watches Paul settle over Till’s waist, resting on his knees. Till’s eyes snap up to look up at the smaller man. He sets his big hands on his lean thighs, squeezing his fingers around them. Placing his hand against Till’s muscular chest, Paul reaches back to grip his stiff cock. Till’s jaw clenches, his eyes fiery, trained up on Paul. Smiling down at him, Paul strokes the lube over his shaft generously.

He angles his hips so he can rub the thick head of Till’s cock against himself. An expression of focus comes to Paul’s face. With a firm grip around the base, he begins to ease back onto it. It slips in easy—Till groans, his hands roaming upwards to grasp Paul’s hips.

Paul is silent as he sits back, hand continuing to hold him in place as he takes him in, and then once he’s settled, he cups his slim fingers around Till’s balls and squeezes, a smirk on his face. Till tips his head back and grunts, arching his hips up into Paul’s ass, pushing in even deeper. Paul groans, sliding his knees further apart, bearing more weight back onto it. Schneider watches silently with fiery arousal, seeing their bodies intertwined like this, Till’s big hands clutching so tightly at Paul’s hips. Till’s muscular legs are flexing, his pecs gleaming under the light with sweat, his raven-feather hair wild.

Undeniably, Paul is so small when on top of him like this. His limbs leaner, his hips nearly swallowed by Till’s hands, his hand slender and miniscule when placed upon Till’s chest like this. The size difference in itself is enough to make blood rush straight into Schneider’s dick.

If it weren’t for his own unbreakable control, he would undoubtedly let his lust consume him and make this more fun for himself. But he has patience, and watching them fuck on his command is almost as rewarding.

Paul’s hands find their way to Till’s face; he cups his cheeks, stokes his thumbs over his skin, leans in to kiss him with an angling of is head. Till tips his head back to welcome it, hands raising from his hips to stroke them over his sides affectionately. From Schneider’s angle, he can’t see the kiss very well—Paul’s head is blocking the view. He smiles regardless. Paul is so tender with him.

When he draws away, leaving one of those cute pursed smiles on Till’s face, Paul grins. Schneider is sure they’re having an unspoken exchange, one he doesn’t understand, based on their expressions. Paul doesn’t say anything. He places his hands on the bed, leaning in over Till, and begins to roll his hips. He rocks back onto his cock sensually, gracefully. A smooth motion that makes his hips gyrate in a very visually appealing way. Till’s entire body locks up again, his nails digging into Paul’s sides, hands clutching at him.

He grunts and groans, very vocal in the way he’s not far from the edge. Schneider suspected as much.

Paul is moaning softly himself, in a hushed, breathless way that Schneider barely hears past Till’s huffing and grunting. Only when Paul’s body adjusts to the intrusion does Till grab onto his hips, digging his heels into the bed, and begins to jerk his hips up into Paul’s ass as he rocks back onto his dick. Paul gasps in pleasure. He then shifts, moving to plant his feet on the bed for the leverage to begin dropping down, meeting him halfway. Their bodies meet in a jarring connection, the smacking of their skin filling the room. Paul’s calves and thighs flex as he moves his body. He brings one hand in to cup it around himself, pulling his balls out of the way to give Till a greater view of his dick shoving up into his ass, penetrating him deeply, spreading him open in such a delicious way that it has Till staring with grit teeth and narrowed eyes. His hands venture down to cup Paul’s ass and squeeze. Paul hisses from the pain of it, face pinching.

The bed begins to shake from the force of their fucking, even jostling Schneider who is grinning to himself now. Till is slamming up into the smaller man so roughly it has Paul grunting in pain, though he seems to like it based on his pleasured expression. Paul tips his head back and moans, breathlessly gasping, “Oh, God, yes, Till! Fuck me!”

Till growls and sits up, bringing his arms around Paul to swing them over, so Paul is against the pillows, a flushed, panting mess, his gray eyes wide and trained up on Till. Till pushes his legs up and then reaches down to grip himself. He shoves back inside him and begins to thrust against him with borderline violent bucks of his hips, his broad, sweat-slick back flexing and rolling from the motion. Paul moans in earnest now, head tipping back against the pillows. Schneider is just speechless, watching them fuck in such an animalistic display: bodies intertwined, skin glistening with sweat, faces conveying pure euphoric agony.

They’re mirroring their previous position, in opposite roles. Till has his big hands wrapped around Paul’s knees, bending him easily in half now. Paul, again, cups his hand around himself and pins his junk out of the way so Till can watch, peeking between their moving bodies to see his shaft repeatedly disappear inside him, fucking his hole right open. Paul’s mouth is agape, his eyes narrowed, his blonde locks clinging to his forehead with sweat. Again, Schneider can’t help but think back to his debauched appearance on stage. It’s devastatingly sexy.

They seem so caught in their own world. Schneider doesn’t mind being forgotten in this setting; seeing them fuck so eagerly, obsessed with the feeling of the other man, enjoying the sharing of their flesh, of their lust—it’s intoxicating. He has to watch with clenched fists just so he doesn’t touch himself.

Till readjusts on his knees and lowers his grip on Paul’s legs, his hands now squeezing around his nice, lean thighs. He continues snapping his hips into Paul, so hard and deep it has Paul’s toes clenching, his face screwed up from the pain/pleasure of it. His other hand is clawing at Till’s bicep, an unintentional dragging of his nails.

The tension only snaps when Till growls breathlessly, “I’m coming. I’m going to fill you.”

“Yes!” Paul groans, his pained eyes opening wider to look at Till with hunger, “Come in me!”

Till snarls and squeezes his hands so tightly around Paul’s thighs, Schneider hears the pained noise that emerges from Paul’s throat. Till shoves against him a dozen more times, each thrust more violent than the last, until Paul is crying out and tipping his head back, Till growling and huffing like a fucking animal. He then stills, grinding firmly into Paul, keeping him pinned to the bed by the hold on his legs. He’s grunting deeply in his throat as he gives a few more deep, shaky thrusts into him, earning gasps of pleasure from the smaller man.

“You feel so good,” Paul moans, nearly a slur in his voice, his eyes rolling shut, mouth agape. Till is panting heavily, his entire body shaking, trembling uncontrollably. Schneider can tell Till is crushing Paul at this point. Paul doesn’t care. He must be having his own sort of orgasm, because he’s gasping and shaking just like Till, his hand squeezing firmly at Till’s bicep, so hard his knuckles turn white, his head craning back into the pillows. Till then slowly releases Paul’s legs, leaning back from atop him. Paul tiredly drapes his legs around him, his hand falling to rest against the pillows up by his head. Till strokes his hand over Paul’s heaving belly as he glances down to watch himself slowly pull out. From his angle, Schneider can see it when Till’s rather generous amount of cum slips out from Paul to drip down between his asscheeks to soak into the sheets. Till gathers Paul’s lean legs in his hands again and arches them back up; Paul whines Till’s name and reaches out to clutch his wrists.

Till angles Paul’s hips up with the hold on his legs, bending him almost in half once more. Both men stare, seeing how Paul is left gaping, his hole clenching repeatedly with Till’s thick load seeping out from him. He is utterly debauched. A flustered expression is on his stubbled face—embarrassed. Once satisfied with staring, Till leans in with a duck of his head, his back curling. Schneider stares, wide-eyed, as Till drags his tongue up from Paul’s tailbone, up across his dripping asshole. Paul moans and watches, stunned. Till laps up his own mess—Schneider spots the whiteness of his semen on his tongue. Till’s bangs are falling into his eyes as he pushes his tongue into his ass. Paul’s legs jerk. He whimpers.

“So sore…” Paul breathes, his hands roaming up over Till’s forearms, stroking at his body hair and overheated skin. Till grunts and licks into him until he’s satisfied, earning gasping noises of pleasure from the smaller man. Then he lets Paul’s body roll back down into something more relaxed. Paul wipes his hands over his face and then laughs.

“You are amazing, Till,” he muses, still breathing rather hard. He looks at the other man with amusement on his face, affection in his eyes. Till says nothing. He just moves to lay beside him, their legs tangling. He kisses Paul on the forehead, and then pecks him on the lips in a firm press of his mouth. Paul strokes the back of his fingers against Till’s neck, smiling warmly.

Then Paul’s eyes flick over to Schneider. Till follows his gaze. Schneider realizes he doesn’t know what to say. He always seems to be enthralled by these two.

Paul grins, his crow’s feet wrinkling up.

“I think we made Schneider a little speechless,” he laughs, stroking his fingertips along Till’s ear. Till huffs.

“Looks like he could use a hole to fuck. Isn’t that right, Schneider?”

He reaches out to grab Paul. Paul laughs sharply and pushes at Till, protesting weakly, “Not after what you did to me! My ass is now destroyed inside and out!”

Schneider snorts. Till turns back to Paul, grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the bed as he remarks with a laugh in his voice, “As it should be! Your ass is too perfect to be left untouched!”

“Oh, wow,” Paul says, just amazed, before laughing again. “Such sound logic, Till. You want to ruin something so flawless?”

“Isn’t that why there are such flawless things? To be sullied?”

“Oh, how insightful and twisted, Till. Write that into the next one!”

“Yes, the next Rammstein hit will be me writing about your fuckable little ass in perplexing poetry.”

“Will you two shut up already?” Schneider cuts in, laughing himself now. They both look over to Schneider again—Paul is grinning, and Till is attempting to quell his own smile. Schneider rises from the bed. He grabs onto his black, long-sleeved shirt, draws it up and off of himself, revealing his muscular arms and his slender torso. The other two have gone absolutely silent. They stare, watching him as he unbuckles his belt. Undoing the button and zipper to pop open his pants is amazing; now the tent he’s pitching isn’t so fucking restricting.

He steps out of his pants, followed by his socks, and then he’s easing his tight briefs down his thighs, his lengthy cock springing up. God, he was getting sick of the feeling of wearing briefs wettened by his pre-cum. He’s so goddamn horny, he doesn’t even care to put up the front anymore. He crawls onto the bed, saying in a thick voice, his blue eyes piercing and trained on Paul like a wolf on his prey, “Till is right. I’m going to fuck you. Get on your hands and knees.”

Till whistles lowly and moves out of the way. Paul looks shocked, and then a grin breaks past his initial surprise. He nods and eagerly turns over so he’s on his hands and knees. He peeks back at Schneider with an arched brow, wiggling his ass as he teases, “Well, come on, Mr. Dom. May as well get a taste, too. I’m all ready to go.”

Scooting closer to him, Schneider draws back a hand to swing it forward and spank him soundly. Paul pivots forward from the pain that shoots through his abused ass—he whimpers and looks at him with shock. Schneider takes in a deep breath and murmurs, eyes dangerous, “Watch your mouth, you fucking whore. You should remember who you’re speaking to. Just because I gave Till the reins does not mean they’re subsequently passed onto you.”

Paul is silent, his face hidden behind his bicep. Unacceptable. Schneider cocks back his hand. Paul jerks, twisting his hips away, and cries, “I’m sorry, sir! Please. Please, just fuck me.”

“Then get back into position,” Schneider snarls. Paul obediently rights himself so he’s presenting his ass, on his hands and knees. Schneider moves up behind him, forcefully kneeing Paul’s legs further apart. He grabs onto Paul’s hip, pulls him back, while he grips his aching cock and sweeps it down between his ass cheeks. He then smoothly pushes into him, tugging him back into it as he grinds into him, hard. Paul gasps and moans wantonly. Schneider begins to fuck into him with snaps of his hips, one broad hand sliding up across his back to grab a fistful of his blonde locks. He tugs his head back. Paul groans, hoarsely.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he slurs, voice hoarse and thick with lust, “You feel amazing, Schneider. Your cock is so perfect. Fuck me.”

Schneider is utterly swallowed by the pleasure of Paul’s body, he doesn’t bother responding to his failure of addressing him as ‘sir’. His ass is hot and slick around him, and he can feel the remnants of Till’s load drip out as he continues driving his cock into him. Paul begins to push back into it, meeting him halfway, their bodies connecting so roughly, the crack of their skin meeting fills the room. Paul is moaning deliriously, as if he’s getting the best goddamn dicking of his life.

Schneider isn’t going to last long. The only stimulation he’s obtained at all is from Paul’s mischievous fondling, and squeezing himself through his pants as he watched the other two screw. And yet, he had been so incredibly aroused throughout it, the pleasure had built up so much already. He’s moaning and gasping himself, eyes lidded and trained down on the sight of Paul’s smaller body. His freckled shoulders, the clenching muscles of his back, his cute ass fitting into the slot of Schneider’s pelvis so perfectly.

“Schneider,” Paul whines so filthily it has heat gushing right into Schneider’s belly. He groans, leaning forward with one hand bracing against the pillows beside Paul. Paul’s hand flies out to cover his, an almost automatic response. His slender fingers squeeze around Schneider’s. Schneider rests his forehead against his shoulder, his dark curls splaying across his freckled skin.

“Good boy,” Schneider murmurs. Paul lets out a pleased hum. Turning his head, continuing to lean into the other man, Schneider sees Till sitting nearby with hunger in his green eyes, his jaw locked. He’s idly touching himself.

Schneider refocuses; he leans away from Paul, begins to fuck him earnestly with jarring smacks of his hips against his ass. Paul is jerked forward from the force of it. He’s moaning loudly, completely lacking the boundaries he tends to have. He’s gasping Schneider’s name like a pleading chant. Schneider begins to shake, his belly tightening. The heat simmering in his gut is reaching the boiling point.

A dozen more shoves into Paul and he’s done. He pushes his pelvis hard against his ass, pulls him back into it with his large hands squeezing hard around his hips. They’re both panting, locked together and suspended in the moment of utter euphoria. Paul collapses forward onto an elbow. He peeks back at Schneider with one meek gray eye—his face is heavily flushed. Schneider is grimacing, grunting under his breath, his curls slick with sweat and clinging to his forehead.

“Are you coming?” Paul whispers, seeing the look on Schneider’s face, his eyes widening. He brings a hand down to cup Schneider’s balls, squeezing them as a grin curls across his lips. Schneider grunts, louder now, and thrusts into him three more times, eyes clenched shut. He’s quivering, muscles clenching and relaxing, clenching and relaxing. Paul’s eyes roll shut. He moans.

“Love it when you come in me,” he breathes, continuing to fondle his balls with lust, “Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s different than pulling out. So much better.”

Barely processing Paul’s filthy words, Schneider is silent, breathing hard, as he comes down from the tidal wave of his orgasm. He hadn’t been hit with it that hard in a long time. When he opens his eyes, his vision swims. He blinks it away, meets Paul’s coy-eyed gaze. He strokes his hands down over Paul’s thighs, and then slowly pulls out. Schneider kisses him on the back and then leans away. With one hand, he reaches down to spread him open.

Paul is a fucking mess. He’s entirely debauched with a combination of spit, lube, and their cum. He likes seeing him used like this, so he doesn’t lick it up like Till did. He spanks him once, earning a flinch, and then says roughly, “Good boy. A good fucktoy for us. You did well.”

Saying nothing out of utter humiliation, Paul ducks his head, waiting for permission to lay down. Schneider places a hand on his hip and shoves him over. Paul collapses on his side, against the pillows. He looks up at the other man—blatantly needy in his gaze. Schneider takes it as an invitation. He moves to kneel in front of him, reaching out to grasp a fistful of his blonde locks. Paul gazes up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes and an open mouth. It has this overpowering desire to dominant him thriving in Schneider's chest. He could just slap that face until he cries. Instead, he speaks firmly with piercing eyes while cupping a broad hand under his flushed cock, "Look at how filthy you left me. Take care of it."

Without hesitation, Paul shifts closer on his elbow and leans in to take the pink head into his mouth. Schneider keeps that painful hold on his bleached hair, watching with lidded eyes as Paul goes down on him. He sucks him deeper and deeper into his mouth. His head bows as he lets his shaft push into his throat. Schneider grunts. He's sensitive. Paul sucks tightly at him as he slowly withdraws, his cheeks sucked in, pink lips tightly secured around him. His gray eyes flicking up to meet his gaze as he pulls off, leaving his cock shiny with his spit, no longer covered in a mixture of fluids. Paul licks his lips and looks up at him with hopeful eyes, anticipating praise. Schneider decides he may as well reward him.

Back curling, Schneider grabs Paul by the jaw and leans in, head angled, to kiss him, crushing their mouths together. Paul hums happily into it, hand flying up to rest on Schneider's forearm. Their lips purse together, firmly, passionately. Paul's lips are wet and soft underneath his own. Pliable. Kissable. Delectable. Schneider hums himself, a deeper noise of pleasure as he kisses the older man almost lovingly. In a silly, romantic thought that passes through his mind, Schneider dimly thinks Paul's mouth against his own is a familiar comfort. He dips his tongue in-between his lips, a light skimming that has Paul sucking in a sharp breath through his nose. Schneider gives him a departing purse before slowly withdrawing. He searches in Paul's infatuated eyes and then lets his jaw go.

Schneider rakes his hands up over his curls and looks over towards Till. Till is sitting there with a slight smirk on his rugged face.

“Come closer,” Schneider murmurs, “We’re going to lay together and then we’ll get up and shower.”

Paul splays out across the bed and sighs, totally spent. Till nods and crawls over to the other two, before he gathers a limp Paul into his arms, earning a lackluster giggle from him. Paul curls into his chest. Schneider silently moves behind Paul, laying on his side, and draws his arm around his waist. He nuzzles into his back and lets out a deep breath.

They lay in comfortable, soothing silence, soaking in their shared body heat and the embrace of each other. At least, until Paul speaks quietly.

“You know how it feels having a bunch of jizz between your asscheeks? It is not pleasant. It’s like glue. I won’t be able to shit for a week if I don’t wash this off soon.”

“Jesus Christ,” Till guffaws, which has Schneider laughing sharply. The three of them break out into asinine giggling, until it dies down into silence once more. Then Paul speaks again, firmer now.

“Seriously, though. Give it another five minutes and it’ll become concrete.”

 

* * *

 

A full twenty-four hours later, Paul bursts into the dressing room which Schneider and Till are currently occupying, getting dressed for the hour-long interview with VIVA. They look over to see Paul, a rather pissed expression on his face. Wearing the black suit with the equally dark shirt underneath, complimented by the white striped collar, his hair is slicked to the side and his stubble is attractively groomed. [He looks dashing](https://66.media.tumblr.com/2e51d34e677e5dd832301ff5c021a0f0/tumblr_pouxwyDp8f1wffjmmo5_r1_540.png) and the other two stare. Regardless, he is upset and they’ll have to face his wrath for whatever reason.

Paul stomps in, shuts the door behind himself, and starts to undo the belt to his black pants without a single word. The other two are speechlessly confused, watching him get his pants open. He pulls them down, along with his boxers underneath. He then points at his hips, and his thighs, and then turns to show off his ass. He is utterly covered in bruises. His ass is a nightmare. A painting of welts, colored by deep purple and startling black—evidence of his punishment.

“Look what you two did to me!” Paul barks, yanking his pants back up, before angrily redoing the zipper and belt. “Today has been torture, you know! I can’t even sit down! Schneider, you _knew,_ didn’t you?”

Schneider finishes doing up the last few buttons to his [sleek, crimson shirt](https://66.media.tumblr.com/ffef2f8456e3e890459a1b629ba2f27d/tumblr_pouxwyDp8f1wffjmmo2_540.png) and then smiles at him thinly.

“Maybe I wanted to see how you would fare, yes. But I also thought it would be fun, knowing you would look like that under your clothing for such a lengthy interview.”

“Oh, right, how fun. It’s not like I’ll be in pain the entire time,” Paul growls, throwing a hand up with a roll of his eyes. Till says nothing. He just goes back to [fixing his hair](https://66.media.tumblr.com/62cacc11e515655978da1ce1f90e639b/tumblr_pouxwyDp8f1wffjmmo4_540.png). Schneider approaches their smaller partner and reaches out to grasp his biceps through his black blazer, squeezing firmly. That thin smile remains on his face as he says, “Think of it this way: you’ll make me proud if you can manage to sit there for an hour. A reward could be in store.”

He then reaches down to smack him on the ass through his pants, before he begins to exit through the door, an amused grin spreading across his lips. Paul curses in pain, and then whirls around to smack Schneider twice as hard on the shoulder. He yells after him like an indignant old man with a raised fist. Till rolls his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> babypaulchen.tumblr.com


End file.
